


Escape Demands a Partner

by BirdieMing



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Light Angst, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-05 00:24:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12179382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BirdieMing/pseuds/BirdieMing
Summary: “No, listen. It’s not out of the realm of sanity, it’s perfect. I mean, we’re both looking to escape—at least for awhile, right? Why not do it together?"





	Escape Demands a Partner

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [SingMeARareOSComp](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SingMeARareOSComp) collection. 



> This piece is a part of the Sing Me A Rare OS Competition Autumn 2017. I had a choice of song and one character which are That's What I Like by Bruno Mars and Pansy Parkinson. The Admins of the group then randomly chose the other character or characters. All characters, spells, magical equipment and locations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling.
> 
> Lots of love to ShayaLonnie and Affectiion for being my beta/alphas!
> 
> **Runner-up for the Best Characterisation AKA 'They Wanna Know If I Still Got It' award**

* * *

_Escape Demands a Partner_

* * *

 

_August 15th, 1998_

_London, England_

It had only been a few months after the war, after that horrible moment of desperation in the Great Hall when she saw him in the worst way—clichéd—locking eyes across the room in a smoky pub nestled deep in Knockturn Alley, the only place where no one ever _looked_ at anyone else because they didn’t have a leg to stand on either.

The lost Black son who was evidently no longer lost, was sat in the corner of the bar, alone with glazed eyes and absentmindedly puffing on a cigarette that emitted purple smoke. A glass running low on amber liquid and its accompanying nondescript bottle was his only friend in sight.

Though _friend_ might’ve been too generous of a word.  

He lifted his gaze to her again as the sound of Pansy’s tall heels clicked closer on the sticky floor.

“I know you,” he said with a hint of a drunken slur. “You’re the bird who tried to hand over my godson.”

Her lips quirked up, almost amused. “And I know _you_. You’re the one who’s lost nearly half of his life in limbo, and yet you seem happy to waste more time by staring at the bottom of empty bottles.”

He grunted in acknowledgement, or maybe concession. Then he drained the rest of his glass.

 

 oOoOoOo 

_December 31st, 1998_

_Manhattan, New York City_  

It was a well known fact that New Yorkers avoid Times Square like the plague, or at least the Muggles do. Directly above the brightly lit maze of starry-eyed wonder and scam artists was the Port of Tumbles, a wizarding nightclub lauded as a must-visit destination in North America by _Which Direction_.

For New Year’s Eve, the walls and ceiling had been charmed transparent, allowing the patrons to share in the Muggle festivities when the ball dropped and fireworks launched.

It would have suffocated Pansy to have spent this night alone, so she opted to spend it surrounded by strangers instead. They were nice and too inebriated to ask questions about her accent.

Even in the thick of the crowded dance floor, she danced independently, ignoring all that approached and simply letting the hypnotic beats make her blood shake before sinking into her bones. The music forced her to focus on the present, and that was the greatest gift she could have gotten right then.

The past ( _the war, her friends_ ) and the future ( _her father, the ‘business’_ ) more often than not weighed on her mind, but running away from scrutiny proved to be much easier than running away from her thoughts.

Having wanted to just revel in the last few notes, Pansy reopened her eyes as the song came to an end, only to find herself gazing across the room into the eyes of Sirius Black. He looked to be deep in thought, and she frowned, immediately pushing her way through the throng.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded.

“Same as you.” Though he stated it plainly, his brow was raised as if in challenge.

Her eyes shifted to the cup he was holding before carefully keeping her expression neutral. “Pumpkin fizz?”

“My tastes changed,” Sirius said smoothly.

Reading in between the lines quickly, she nodded—a bit jerkily—in approval. “Good.” 

_Five!_

_Four!_

_Three!_

_Two!_

_One!_

_Happy New Year!_

Cheers erupted around them as the sparklers flashed gold and silver, and dragon-shaped confetti were shot out of the corners of the room, smaller bits of orange confetti spewing out of their tiny mouths as they roared in celebration.

In tandem, those in the Port of Tumbles as well as the Muggles in the streets below kissed someone. Some for the first time, some for the thousandth time, but all with joy and hope and excitement in their hearts for what’s to come.

The sky filled with fluorescent sparks as it fell silent throughout the club, wizards and witches leaning their heads back to witness Muggle ingenuity in awe because it didn’t matter that their fireworks didn’t change shapes or form into phrases. It was simplicity that drew them in and that in itself was magical.

Pansy turned to look at Sirius, only to once again find him already looking at her. His eyes reflected the flashing multi-colour surrounding them.

Moving closer, he slowly raised a hand to cup her cheek. They simply stared at each other for a moment before she nodded and raised herself up to meet his lips.

It was heat.

Her breath hitched as he wound his arm around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest. Her hands made their way into his hair, tugging gently.

They leant forehead to forehead when their lips parted with a soft sound, their eyes still closed as they shared the same breath.

“Happy New Year,” Sirius said lowly.

“Come home with me,” she whispered.

He pulled back, searching her face, but she continued before he could get a word out, “Don’t you think we’ve both lost enough?” She then smiled as if she knew what he was thinking. “It’s not going to turn into a _thing_ , Black. And don’t give me that rubbish about age difference, it’s perfectly legal for two consenting adults who find each other attractive—which we clearly do—to have sex.”

 

oOoOoOo

  _January 1st, 1999_

_The next morning_

_Pansy’s condo, Upper East Side_

Pansy awoke several minutes after Sirius. She turned over to lie on her back, bringing her arms out to rest on top of the comforter, hands folded on her stomach, which matched his position beside her.

They basked in the morning light streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows for a few moments before he broke the comfortable silence.

“Nice digs.”

She snorted and threw the comforter off of her, getting up unabashedly in her nudity to make her way to the bathroom. She paused and looked back at him with a small smile playing on her lips. “Thank you. You may help yourself to whatever’s in the kitchen. I’ll be in out in fifteen minutes.”

He got out of bed then and gingerly removed his boxers from where they were hanging off the corner of a bookshelf across the room before sliding them back on. _He really is quite handsome,_ Pansy thought as she watched him stretch languidly.

 

oOoOoOo

A simple breakfast for two had already been prepared and set on the dining table when Pansy walked in. Sirius stood and pulled out her chair, dropping a quick kiss on the crown of her head after she sat. 

She kept her eyes on him for a moment before looking away abruptly and tucking into her meal; her appetite was quite ravenous this morning—after all, she _had_ been participating in some rather vigorous activities the night before.

They ate in companionable silence, the air only disrupted by the delicate sounds of forks against china, the occasional sip of tea, and pages of _The Wizarding Times_ being turned.

It was wise to stay informed about current events, even in self-exile.

“Pass the marmalade,” she said absently as she fixed herself a second cup of tea without taking her eyes off of the Fine Arts section. She really should go see that Muggle musical; it must’ve been quite good to have captured a wizarding audience’s attention.

A plate slid toward her, and she looked to see that the marmalade had already been spread on a piece of toast. Her brows raised as her gaze shot to Sirius who maintained a neutral expression. She cleared her throat, “I told you this wasn’t going to become a thing.”

He leant back in his seat and hid a grin behind a long sip of tea.

“Just being a gentleman,” he said innocently, “but I think a more pressing curiosity would be why you seem to be living here.”

Pansy put her newspaper down and folded the piece of toast in half before taking a delicate bite, chewing at a leisurely pace.

“I’m sure your powers of observation have already lent you the surface answer—escape from the complete circus that is Britain at the moment,” she said with a hint of bitterness. “While that factored into this decision, it is also convenient that I have business here. May I assume that you also have the same surface answer?”

“You certainly may. The reminder of all that I had missed and the remnants of the war have been . . . unkind to me. It was decided that it would be best for me to stay clear until ‘I’ve screwed my head back on right,' which wasn’t the most unreasonable request, so here I am,” he said, looking slightly ashamed of himself.

There was a short pause before she spoke lightly, “Well, let us not spoil this lovely morning with difficult talks.”

She picked up her newspaper again and flipped to the next page, reading intently—this time an article detailing local crime. 

Sirius’s skin buzzed as his mind bobbed and weaved through multiple trains of thought. He truly _was_ just being a gentleman with the breakfast and the marmalade; to him, it had always been a matter of common courtesy to leave one-night stands with a good morning meal. But this Parkinson girl (twenty years his junior, _fuck_ )—what had been the odds of seeing her again after that night in Knockturn Alley, and at Port of Tumbles of all places? And then to sleep with her? He wasn’t foolish enough to think it had been _fate_ or whatever; the Veil hadn’t been quite _that_ detrimental to his mind.

She said that she was here to escape—completely understandable considering what her role was in the war. She bloody _lived_ here now.

He felt impulsive. Jumpy.

“We should go to Puerto Rico,” he blurted.

Pansy’s head shot up, looking completely bewildered by this proposal, but he plowed on before she could question his state of mind.

“No, listen. It’s not out of the realm of sanity, it’s perfect. I mean, we’re both looking to escape—at least for awhile, right? Why not do it together? It doesn’t have to be a _thing_ , we don’t even have to have sex again, we could just go as friends—not that last night wasn’t enjoyable—but you get it, the need to run away,” Sirius said quietly. “You said last night that we had both lost enough, and I . . . lost _everything_. Half of my life was taken from me, my freedom—“

She held up a hand to stop him, her eyes slightly pained. She took a moment to compose herself before she stood, “Puerto Rico sounds lovely. We’ll leave in three hours,”

Sirius straightened in his seat, surprise evident on his face.

“Oh, and you can count on us having sex again, Sirius.”

 

oOoOoOo

_January 3rd, 1999_

_Vieques, Puerto Rico_

The first two days were spent indulging in pure unadulterated laziness. They laid on a gorgeous white sand beach, shielded by sun protection charms, basking in the comfortable temperatures Vieques had to offer in the dead of winter.

Sirius brought along a Muggle device—a portable CD player—and placed a Muffling Charm on it to prevent disturbing fellow beachgoers before blasting The Replacements. 

Pansy had been sceptical of the band at first, never having ventured into Muggle music before. But soon enough, she was insistent on him getting up to dance and sing with her.

_I think big, I think big, I think big once in awhile!_

 

oOoOoOo

When the sun set, they sat quietly side-by-side, watching the ocean come to life with thousands of tiny blue lights, courtesy of bioluminescent plankton. As the tide came in and water began to roll over their feet, he held out a hand to her, leading her deeper into the sea until they were submerged to their hips.

Trails of blue light formed temporary shapes and lines as they moved their hands through the water, standing reverent of nature.

“It’s the world’s brightest, you know,” Sirius pointed out.

“Like your namesake,” Pansy said.

They shared a private smile before she placed a hand on his arm, looking directly into his eyes. “Thanks for bringing me here.”

 

oOoOoOo 

_February 15th, 1999_

_Miami, Florida_

The last two weeks of January were spent in frozen Antarctica, where they stayed at a quaint little inn nestled in the center of Romberni, an underground wizarding village. A rare purple and blue aurora had appeared during the first week, crackling above them in calm dreamy waves amid the steady chanting of the village elders blessing the untouched land.

Though Pansy and Sirius thoroughly enjoyed their time in the South Pole, they had grown addicted to the carefree atmosphere that beaches seemed to exude.

The Parkinsons owned a private beachfront Muggle property in Miami; Magic City, after all, was the perfect place for _their_ sort of business expansion.  

And so Miami it was. 

Being off-season, the surrounding homes were unoccupied. The realisation of having full privacy led the two to implement a firm "clothing optional" rule within property lines after sharing a wicked grin. 

As it turned out, they only bothered to throw on a robe when one of them had to get up from bed to answer the door and retrieve lobster tail and scampi—a frequent indulgence—from Julio, the delivery boy of Pescado’s Box.

 

oOoOoOo

She rolled off of Sirius, landing with a soft bounce next to him before they both reached into their respective nightstands to grab a towel, clean themselves off, and toss it onto the floor. 

He immediately wrapped an arm around her when she resettled under the covers, kissing her shoulder. She had previously not thought much of post-coital cuddling, preferring to either leave or eat.

But this was rather nice.

“Pansy?”

“Yes?”

“Are you going to be living in New York permanently?”

She shifted to face him incredulously, “Pillow talk? That’s what we’re going to do?”

Sirius stared at her meaningfully until she heaved a sigh and sat up to lean on the headboard. She couldn’t have this conversation in the arms of a lover.

With her arms crossed, she said, “You first. Why weren’t you with Potter on New Year’s?”

He stayed silent for a long time, and she waited for him to speak patiently.

It came spilling out.

“I’m an alcoholic. You saw that night. It got . . . worse, and Harry—he couldn’t take seeing me like that, and rightfully so; I’m supposed to be his godfather, someone he can depend on—he’s already lost so much.”

Pansy bit her tongue at the mention of his godson, but continued to listen intently.

“He took me to Madame Konseri’s Garden for Bettering—there wasn’t much of a fight from me, there wasn’t much left anyway—and he begged me to get sober, whatever it took, even if it meant leaving Britain to get away from the reminders. It all happened in a span of just a few months, coming back from the Veil, the acquittal and reinstatement.” Sirius let out a shaky breath before he softly added, “Finding out that Remus had died.”

He cleared his throat, willing away the sting of his eyes. “It was too much,” he finished simply.

Pansy took his hand as they let the silence hang over them for a few moments. She squeezed his hand once before releasing it, gearing up for her own confessions.

“You already know what the Parkinsons do, but I’ll say it plainly: we have killers for those who pay. We have potions and Muggle drugs and tell you to pick your poison if you have money. We steal, we launder, we counterfeit, and we do it all unflinchingly. We’re expanding, you know, trying to infiltrate the Muggle mafias. My father said that it’s untapped potential, and who gives a damn about blood, it’s the money that really counts. It’s why we were mostly neutral in the war; didn’t want to hurt the business by alienating half-blood and Muggle-born clients.

“He’s dying—my father, we’ve kept it quiet—and magic can only extend his life for so long. He has only me for an heir, but I think he knew from the moment I was born that Mother would never have another. It’s why he trained me just as he would’ve trained a son.

“The Muggle Italians are getting hit hard by the authorities in New York, and the Trafficantes are crumbling here. It’s an opportunity for us to slip in. I’ll be heading this expansion while Britain is delegated to the Zabinis. New York will become a permanent home to me as I work to establish our base,” she explained efficiently and with little emotion.

“You don’t have to do it. You could get out, I could help you,” Sirius said.

“You’re sweet, but you couldn’t help me, and I wouldn’t want you to either. I was born for this, trained for it, and I’m _good_ at it. The Parkinsons will remain strong,” Pansy said resolutely.

Sirius observed her face for a moment before nodding in acceptance.

“I suppose this was never meant to become more after the bubble pops,” he said, not bitterly; that condition had always been clear. 

“No, but our bubble doesn’t have to be popped so soon.”

 

oOoOoOo 

_March 20th, 1999_

_Paris, France_

Sirius hadn’t been able to resist renting a motorcycle when they passed by the shiny rows displayed on the street. Pansy couldn’t have brought herself to deny him after his face lit up with childlike enthusiasm even as his mouth drowned in nostalgia. Though, she did insist that they spend the day at the rue Saint-Honoré and the corresponding rue du Faubourg Saint-Honoré. 

She had her arms wrapped tightly around Sirius’s torso as he weaved through Parisian traffic with ease. Motorcycle rides felt just like flying but with significantly more noise. When they reached the famous shopping strip, she pulled her helmet off immediately, thrusted it into his arms, and tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for him to turn off the engine and dismount.

He slowed his movements on purpose to tease her but hastened when she glared at him. She rolled her eyes and ignored him when he offered his arm to her with a cheeky grin, instead walking toward the shops and trusting him to follow.

 

oOoOoOo

Six large shopping bags worth at least a hundred thousand euros were dropped to the floor the moment they entered their hotel room that night. Pansy had already rid Sirius of his shirt and was working on his belt.

His hands quickly took over as they both kicked off their shoes and stripped until only their underwear remained. She moved to unhook her bra, but he stopped her, drawing her into a deep kiss that heated her from within before leading her to the soft rug in front of the fireplace.

 

oOoOoOo

 

A hazy dawn greeted them the next morning, the streets still quiet. They wanted to enjoy the peace for a little while longer before the city awakened too, so they sat on the balcony and sipped their tea. 

Pansy had received an owl in the middle of the night. The cocktail of potions that kept her father alive had lost their effectiveness. He had three days.

She had excused herself to the bathroom, locked the door behind her, and cast a Muffliato Charm for good measure before letting out a single whimper of grief.

Her father hadn’t been an affectionate man, but he treated her as an equal, knowing how important it was for his sole heir to know this business from inside out, to keep the Parkinsons strong and reputable after his passing.

When she came back to bed with red eyes, he only held her, stroking her back. He did not bother with words of comfort for they were too superficial to utter.

“I’m leaving today.”

“I know.”

The moon was still visible in the lightening sky.

“Hey,” Sirius said, glancing over at her, “we had a good run.”

And they did. Japan, New Zealand, Rwanda, Argentina, India, and Monaco had been a whirlwind of beautiful places and experiences. She was glad that she got to do this with him.

She smiled and stood, squeezing his shoulder as she walked past. “I’ll see you around, Sirius.”

Above, the moon grinned crookedly, thinking that endings like this froze with the sun shining upon it.

 

oOoOoOo

_November 6th, 2003_

_Gringotts Bank_

“Identification?” Bogrod grunted behind the teller’s desk.

Pansy handed over her wand. “I wish to grant Mr Zabini access to the Parkinson business vault.”

The goblin did not look up. “His identification?”

As he handed over his wand, Blaise looked at her with his eyebrows raised. She raised hers in response as if to say _What can you do?_

The front door of Gringotts Bank whooshed open, and suddenly, the near-stifling silence of the lobby was shattered by the echoing cries of a baby. None of the goblins looked up from their desk. Pansy thought she saw Blaise flinch in her peripheral.

Bogrod handed their wands back. “Your access will be activated tomorrow, sir. Good day.”

Blaise gave her another look before they both thanked him and turned to leave.

She nearly stopped in her tracks, her heart suddenly racing, at the sight of Sirius Black standing with Potter and the Weasley girl. He was taking the crying baby into his arms, smiling as he continued to talk to the couple. She stared openly until Potter’s attention landed on her. He nodded politely after a moment, forcing Pansy to do the same.

Then her gaze slid a few centimeters to the right, and it was like that night in New York again. Her breath hitched as Sirius’s stormy eyes met hers as she walked by.

It had only been a single second, but it was enough to leave them both pressing their lips together to hide a smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! I'm quite active on tumblr, so feel free to join me there as well at birdieming.tumblr.com :)


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